To Let Her Go
by ancilla89
Summary: Now multi-chapter! Tag to 9x19 when Maggie the "medium" talks Danny into taking off his ring.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a one-shot that will eventually be moved into the multi-chapter "CHOKING" when I get to that point in the story. I just re-watched Season 9 Episode 19 and had to finish this snippet, which I started the night after the episode aired. I HATED that Danny let Maggie talk him into taking his ring, so this is a way to still follow canon, yet make it better.**

"_You need to let her go. It's okay_."

How the hell could she say that, and why the hell had he listened? Why hadn't he stormed out?

He had left almost immediately, and driven away, afraid Maggie-the-medium was watching him from her kitchen window.

He was parked in an empty parking-lot now, head on the steering wheel, tears streaming down his face.

The ring in its little velvet bag was burning a hole in his pocket.

"_It's a symbol of a promise I made_."

That promise had been "Until death do us part."

It had been one year, 10 months, and 16 days since death had parted them.

"_You don't get over it, but you do get through it_."

What the hell did that even mean?

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled his hand out as if he'd been burned.

It was late—after 9 p.m.—but he sat up, pulled his phone out of his other pocket, scrolled to a familiar contact.

Doc answered on the second ring. "Hey, Danny, what's wrong?"

"Doc. Sorry to bother you." The younger man could probably hear the tears in his voice, but he really didn't care.

"You're not bothering me, Danny. I'm listening."

"I…I took my wedding ring off tonight. And I don't know…if I was ready, or if I let someone talk me into it, and…I feel like maybe I just betrayed Linda, betrayed her…memory."

He choked.

"Danny, I know you, and you're a pretty headstrong guy; it's not easy for someone to talk you into doing something you don't want to do, even on a subconscious level. I think if you hadn't been ready, you would have stormed out of there. Who suggested it?"

"That blasted woman who calls herself a 'medium'; I've told you about her before."

"Yes, I remember." Doc's voice was warm with sympathy. "_I know what it's like to lose the love of your life…_"

"Doc!" Danny whispered, desperately. "Not even 24 hours ago, I arrested the guy responsible for Linda's murder, and now I don't even… I don't know what I'm doing. Maybe I have closure now and I can 'let her go,' but I don't…"

"Danny, dry your eyes and take a breath for me, okay? And then we'll talk through this, one piece at a time."

He nodded, swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, took a shaky breath. "Okay," he whispered.

"Your last encounter with Maggie…had you pretty upset. Why did you go over to her house tonight?"

"To tell her that I…arrested the guy responsible for Linda's murder." He let out a shaky breath. "You're probably gonna tell me that now I have closure and that I can let her go, like that stupid medium woman said; but…"

"I'm not going to tell you that, Danny. But I do want you to think about something. What have we talked about, repeatedly, since her death? One specific topic I've been trying to help you work through?"

He shook his head. "I…I don't know, Doc."

"Come on, Danny. You stormed out of my office several times in the first few months after her death, because you weren't ready to listen to me on this."

Oh.

"That…that her death was my fault."

"Now that you know she was murdered, what does that tell you?"

He swallowed hard. "Linda…Linda's death…wasn't…my fault?"

"That's right, Danny. It _wasn't your fault_."

_It wasn't my fault_.

"But they came after her because…"

"It wasn't your fault, Danny. What was it your dad told you when the house burned down?"

"That…that the cartel came after me because I hurt them, and I hurt them because it's my job." He took a shaky breath, wiped away another errant tear. "By my dad's logic, then, the house _was_ my fault, and Linda _was_ my fault."

"Not the point your dad was trying to make, Danny. What the cartel did to you in retaliation for you doing your job…is on them, not you. It's their fault, not yours."

He nodded. "Linda's death wasn't my fault?" he asked.

"No, it wasn't."

He shook his head. "Doc…"

"Take a breath, Danny. How does that make you feel, knowing conclusively that it wasn't your fault?"

"Relieved, dammit! And guilty for feeling relieved…."

"Why do you feel guilty?"

"Because maybe…I still should have kept her safe, and if I'd spent the rest of my life thinking that it was my fault, maybe that woulda been the price I had to pay…"

"The price you have to pay to whom?"

"I don't know, Doc! Maybe this is God punishing me for…putting too much of my energy into work and not enough into my family."

"Last I checked, and my faith in God is weaker than yours even, God wasn't a God of vengeance like that."

He ignored Doc. "What the hell does '_You have to let her go_' even mean? Or '_You don't get over it, but you do get through it_'? Who gave her the right to tell me that? I decide when I…"

He choked on a sob.

Doc said quietly, "What were you thinking when she said that?"

He shook his head.

"What do you think it means to let her go, Danny?"

"If it means to forget, then dammitall…"

"It doesn't. It means to let go of the guilt. Try to figure out life without her. Like you told your boys when you went out for pizza for the first time as a family of three…put one foot in front of the other. Try to pull your feet out of the quicksand, as your dad put it. Live your life without staying mired in the guilt and the grief."

"But without the ring…no way am I ready to start dating, Doc, and yet, my bare hand is gonna tell every woman who sees it that I'm available."

"And you're more than capable of telling any woman who tries to make a move on you, that you're not ready."

He sighed. "What the hell does 'You don't get over it, but you do get through it' mean, Doc?"

"I don't know what Maggie meant, but I can tell you what it sounds like to me. Getting _over_ would mean forgetting. Getting _through_ means living. Remembering, but not getting bogged down."

He tried to swallow but couldn't.

Finally, he choked out, "Doc!"

"Danny, you're not betraying Linda's memory by taking your ring off. Go home, hang with Sean, try to sleep, you've had a long few days. We'll talk more tomorrow, okay?"

He nodded and hung up.

He drove to the cemetery and sat by her grave. He didn't pray and didn't talk and didn't think, just held the velvet bag in his hand.

He didn't drive home until it was late enough that he knew Sean was in bed. He wasn't ready for this conversation with his boy yet…hell, he didn't know if he ever would be.


	2. Chapter 2

Danny heard the nearby bells of St. Andrew's strike every hour that night.

At midnight he tossed and turned.

At 1 a.m. he stared at the ceiling.

At 2 a.m. he stared at the little red velvet bag holding his wedding ring.

At 3 a.m. he opened the bag, pulled out the ring, and wept as he looked at it.

At 4 a.m. he put the ring back in the bag, went downstairs, and made a cup of coffee.

At 5 a.m. he left a note for Sean and went for a run, then came home and showered.

At 6 a.m. he sent a text to Dr. Dawson, knowing the younger man was an early riser. "_Do you have a minute to talk?_"

Doc called him back in two minutes. "What's wrong, Danny?"

He sighed, shook his head. "Couldn't sleep. Spent the night remembering, and staring at the ring. It's just a symbol, but…I feel like I've betrayed her by taking it off."

"Have you thought about what else it could be a symbol of, besides the promise you made to Linda?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, stifling a yawn. He'd need at least two more pots of coffee if he were going to get through the day.

"What conclusion did you come to last night?"

He sighed. "That…that Linda's death wasn't my fault."

"Correct. You know conclusively, you have proof, that her death wasn't your fault. The man who ordered her to be killed is behind bars. That takes a huge weight off your shoulders, doesn't it?"

He nodded.

"Maybe taking your ring off…is also a symbol of letting go of the burden of that guilt."

He sighed. "Doc, you sound like a shrink!"

"Occupational hazard, Danny, though I prefer the term 'Psychologist.'" Doc chuckled. "Sorry."

Doc cleared his throat. "Like I told you last night, I know you, and I know you would not have taken your ring off if you weren't ready. Taking your ring off does not mean betraying Linda; maybe it means laying her to rest—and laying the guilt to rest."

He nodded. That made sense, sorta. "What do I tell my boys? Sean, for one, is gonna freak out."

"Tell him what I just told you-in your own words, of course."

Danny nodded, thanked the younger man, and hung up.

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At 7 a.m. Danny went downstairs to find Sean making himself breakfast. At least they'd gotten over that hurdle.

"Hey, kiddo. Sorry I got home so late last night. How was school?"

"Hey, dad. It was good." He glanced at Danny, then froze, eyes going wide. "Where…where's your ring? Why aren't you wearing it?"

Danny held his hands up. "Woah, let's sit down and talk about this." He poured himself a cup of coffee, sat down.

"Why aren't you wearing it?" Sean asked again. "It hasn't even been two years, Dad; are you going to tell me you've forgotten Mom already?" His face turned red. "Are you _dating_ someone?" he spat.

"Woah, slow down, Sean. Sit down."

Talking now would make the kid late for school and him late for work, but this was important.

He waited until the 16-year-old had sat down. "No, I am not dating anyone. I have not forgotten your mother, God rest her soul, and I never will forget her. But…I…you know I had a pretty big case lately. I…yesterday I arrested the guy who ordered the hit on the helicopter that your mom was on."

"So what? Mom was murdered, so now you can just forget her and move on?"

Danny was surprised Sean wasn't more upset about the news that his mom had been murdered. Damn, he should have come to that a little more gently. There'd probably have to be a big conversation later…

He rubbed the back of his neck. "No, Sean, I'm never going to forget your mother. It's just…I've spent the last 1 year, 10 months, and 17 days blaming myself. Thinking that if Mom hadn't changed her shift because my schedule changed…she wouldn't have been on that helicopter, and she wouldn't have died."

He swallowed hard. "Every time I've looked at my ring since the moment your grandpa came down to the precinct to tell me Mom was gone…I've…blamed myself, chewed myself out for letting her take that shift."

He took a shaky breath, feeling the tears roll down his face but not trying to hide them from his boy.

"There's nothing…for me…to blame myself for, and…taking off my ring…is helping me to…let go of …the guilt."

Sean nodded, glared at him—probably trying to hide tears of his own—and ran out the door.

Danny sighed, his hand going to the ring finger of his left hand to twirl a ring that wasn't there anymore.

That had gone as badly as he expected it would.

He swiped at his face, and prayed Baez wouldn't ask questions when he got to the precinct.


	3. Chapter 3

Instead of driving to the precinct, Danny called in sick—for the first time he could remember.

He wasn't surprised when Baez knocked on the door 20 minutes later—protocol, to make sure he was actually sick and not malingering.

He opened the door. "Hey, partner."

"You look like crap, Danny."

"Thanks. Not sick, just didn't sleep last night. Afraid of what might happen if I got behind the wheel, or had my weapon in my hands."

She nodded. "Not sleeping have anything to do with your left hand?"

He sighed. Of course she'd notice immediately. Damned detective skills. "Yeah."

"You wanna talk about it?"

He leaned on the doorjamb, suddenly exhausted and trembling. "Trying to stop blaming myself for her death.… With Rojas behind bars…it's not my fault anymore."

"It never was your fault," Baez said quietly.

He scrubbed his face. "Last night, I went to let…Maggie, the medium know I'd arrested Rojas. Can't believe I let her talk me into it, though."

"No one can talk you into anything, Reagan; you're too stubborn."

He laughed dully. "Now you sound like Doc. He said the same thing when I called him."

"You gonna be okay?"

He nodded. "I think. Have to talk to the boys. Sean exploded at me, and Jack…needs to hear it from me before he comes home."

She nodded sympathetically. "Get some sleep, Reagan. I'll make sure no one checks on you again."

"Thanks."

Danny closed and locked the door, stumbled to the couch, and was asleep in minutes.

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A knocking on the door woke him. He groaned, looked at his watch. 2 p.m. He'd slept for more than 5 hours—without nightmares, for once.

He got up and walked to the door, not surprised to see his grandfather. "Hey, Pops."

"Danny. Got a call from your partner that you'd banged in sick. She said not to bother you for at least three hours. It's been 5 since she called me, so here I am. You haven't banged in sick in… what, more than 15 years?"

He shrugged, yawned, and walked back to the couch. "Something like that."

"So, are you sick? Too much to drink? Feeling conflicted for not shooting Rojas?"

He sank onto the couch. The velvet bag in his pocket felt like a brick pulling him back down into the waves. "Just didn't sleep at all last night. Pretty sure I'd get in an accident if I tried to drive. Don't wanna do that to the boys."

"What's on your mind, Danny?" the old man asked as he sat down. He glanced at Danny, then again. "Oh. Ohhhh."

He nodded, stared at his bare hand. "Yeah, I…I…finally realized that her death wasn't my fault."

His grandfather looked sympathetic. "Several years ago, I asked your father why he still wore his wedding ring. He said it was out of habit. I told him Mary's death wasn't his fault—and he said I sounded like a shrink. You still seeing Dr. Dawson?"

"Yeah. Called him last night. He said something about the ring being a symbol of me blaming myself for her death, and now that Rojas is behind bars, I'm letting go of the guilt. Total shrink nonsense, you know."

"I wouldn't say he's completely wrong, Danny. You've blamed yourself since the moment you found out."

He nodded, swiped at his eyes. He did _not_ want to re-live those moments and hours and days…

He cleared his throat. "Not to kick you out or anything, Pops, but I think I could sleep for 12 hours, so I'll see you at Sunday dinner."

Henry let himself out and locked the door behind him, and Danny lay down on the couch.

"_Stop focusing on what you don't have, and focus on what you do have_." What the hell gave Maggie the right to tell him how to grieve?

If Doc hadn't made it sound so…blasted reasonable, he would have pulled the bag out of his pocket and put the ring on.

But Doc made it make sense. Damn the man.

He should call him and have a phone session, but he was too tired.

He pulled the bag out of his pocket, held it tightly.

Then he rolled over, punched the pillow, and fell asleep to dream of their wedding day and the day of the crash and every day in between.


	4. Chapter 4

Someone was shaking him.

He went for his gun, then realized he was on the couch and his gun was in the lockbox, and the person shaking him was Sean.

"Dad! I've been home for 10 minutes and you didn't budge! I thought you were dead! Why aren't you at work? Are you sick?"

He sat up, scrubbed at his face. "No, just exhausted. Didn't sleep last night."

"Well, I wouldn't have slept either if I'd just taken off my wedding ring after 20 years!"

Danny stood up. He needed coffee for this conversation—never mind that the clock on the wall read 4 p.m. He went into the kitchen, poured himself a cup. Cold coffee—good for hangovers _and_ difficult conversations. He walked back into the living room, sat down on the couch.

Sean sat down catty-corner to him on the chair, stared at his feet. "I feel bad about what I said this morning. I…I know you're not gonna forget Mom. But why…why'd you have to take your ring off? It's like you're…telling the world you're not married!"

Danny stared at his bare hand, took a gulp of his coffee, and let out a shaky breath. "A wedding ring…is a symbol that the person wearing it is married. Marriage vows …only last until 'death do us part.' And death parted your mom and me…almost two years ago." He set his coffee cup down, swiped at his eyes.

Sean looked up at him. "You said something last night…like you caught the guy responsible for her death. The crash… wasn't an accident?"

Danny shook his head. "No. I don't know if I _want_ to know what made the plane crash. But it wasn't an accident."

"Why didn't you shoot him? You said you arrested the guy…why didn't you kill him? He killed Mom, why didn't you…?"

Danny flinched. His 16-year-old was sounding like Delgado. "Because that would have been murder. He's going to pay for what he did; he'll never get out of prison."

"Good." Sean kicked the coffee table. "I'm still mad at you for taking your ring off. You were just bs-ing me last night, all that 'not blaming yourself' stuff, right?"

He shook his head. "Wrong. I…I've blamed myself for Mom's death every single day since it happened."

He could feel the kid boring holes in him with his eyes, and he looked up at Sean. His boy stared back at him. "It wasn't your fault, Dad. Jack and I…don't blame you."

Now he _was_ gonna cry, dangitall. He swiped at his eyes as Sean said, "So you really…you just took it off so you'd stop blaming yourself?"

He nodded. That wasn't the whole truth. But there was no way he was going to tell Sean that a "medium" had talked him into it… More shame him, he'd let Doc rationalize it.

He swallowed hard. "I did _not_ do it…in order to start dating. Your mom was…is…the love of my life."

He took a shaky breath. "If…if I ever…start dating, you and your brother…will be the first to know."

Sean muttered something at him, and left the room.

A few minutes later, Danny heard the door slam. Then the _thud_ of the basketball hitting the side of the house. At least the kid had that outlet…

He left his coffee cup on the table, headed for the stairs and his room.

He sank onto the bed.

On his bedside table was a picture of him and Linda on their wedding day…one of a few that his dad had had at his house. All their pictures…photo albums Linda had spent hours on…had been destroyed in the fire. They looked so young and carefree…before Fallujah, before Joe's murder…

Danny shook his head, pulled the velvet bag out of his pocket, and held it between his hands—much like Maggie had before she handed it to him. "I'm sorry, Linda," he whispered.

He pulled his phone out, dialed Doc's number.

"Hey, Danny."

He sighed. "Doc. You have time to talk?"

"Yeah, my next patient isn't until 6. You talk to Sean?"

Danny gave the younger man a quick summary, and Doc, ever-predictable, asked, "How did that make you feel?"

He sighed. "Like a bad dad. I should've been more…subtle…when I told him his mom had been murdered."

"There's no easy way to…tell your kids that kind of news, no matter how old they are, Danny. Just be willing to talk about it if he brings it up again."

He nodded.

Doc was quiet for a minute. "How are you feeling right now, about…all of this?"

He kicked at the pile of dirty clothes on the floor. "Angry that I listened to that quack, and mad at you for rationalizing it."

"Thanks for being honest with me, Danny. Are you angry because you feel like Maggie forced you to take your ring off before you were ready, or are you angry because anger is still your go-to emotion?"

He sighed. "I don't _know_, Doc! That's your expertise, not mine."

"But I can't read your mind, so I don't know why you're feeling what you're feeling. Think about it for a minute. Why are you angry?"

He sighed. "I…If I…when she said I had to let Linda go…a year ago, hell, six months ago, I woulda stormed out of there. Probably kicked something on my way out for the heck of it. But I wasn't…I didn't…"

"You're angry because you didn't get angry when Maggie told you that you had to let Linda go?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I know, it's stupid…"

"No, it's not stupid. It's understandable. How are you feeling right now?"

"I don't know." He yawned. "Exhausted. Naked."

"Have you eaten today?"

He had to think about that. He'd talked to Sean…hadn't eaten breakfast…called in sick…had napped on the couch. "No, I don't…think I have."

"Go make yourself and Sean some dinner. Try to get some sleep. I'm free tomorrow night at 8 if that works for you."

"Yeah, I'll see you then. Thanks, Doc."


	5. Chapter 5

Sean was still throwing the basketball against the house instead of through the hoop, while Danny

pulled something out of the freezer and threw it in the oven.

He set the timer distractedly. Doc knew. Baez knew. Sean knew. His grandfather knew. By Sunday dinner everyone would know.

He wasn't surprised when his phone rang. "Hey, Dad."

"Don't forget to pick up the salad and vegetables for Sunday dinner."

He sighed. "Dad, by now that one's old. Pops talked to you, didn't he?"

He could hear the _clink_ of a whiskey glass being set down. "Pretty big step."

He leaned back against the sink. "Gonna tell me I'm being disrespectful to Linda's memory? I mean, Mom's been gone fourteen years and you still wear your wedding ring."

"No, I'm not going to tell you that, Danny. I'm going to ask you how you're doing."

He shook his head. "I don't know. Sean's mad at me, Jack's gonna flip when…"

"Danny. I didn't ask about the boys. _How are you_?"

The oven beeped—it had come to 350˚.

"Gotta go before I burn dinner again," he lied. "I'll see you Sunday—and, yes, I'll bring the stuff for dinner!"

He hung up on his father.

He set the timer, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and sat down on the couch.

How the hell _was_ he doing, anyway?

Hadn't even been 24 hours.

He'd sounded like an idiot, even to himself: _Angry that he didn't get angry_.

And Doc: _Laying her to rest, not betraying her memory_…

Doc and Baez had been right: he _was_ pretty bull-headed. Hard for someone to talk him into doing something he didn't want to do.

Had he been wanting to do it, and just needed that push from…?

Damn Maggie for thinking she had the right to tell him he needed to let Linda go!

So why wasn't he running up the stairs to take the bag off his bedside table and put the ring back on?

He shook his head.

Seemed like that would be some monumental step backward that would land him back in the fog of grief and guilt he'd been in for the past 22 months…

Great, now he was thinking in metaphors—or similes, or whatever the hell they were. He'd definitely gone batty…

He was too old for all this self-reflection.

That was what he paid Doc the big bucks for; he'd have to talk to him about that later.

He flipped through the TV channels until dinner was ready, ate a stonily-silent dinner with Sean, cleaned up, and went upstairs to stare at the ceiling.

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He woke up a little after midnight, turned the light on, stared at their wedding picture.

For all Sean's worries, he didn't know if he would ever be "ready" to date. Even though he wasn't wearing the ring anymore. Linda had been the love of his life, his high school sweetheart; he couldn't just…replace her. That _would_ be betraying her memory.

He would never stop loving her.

He turned the light off. "Miss you, babe," he whispered.

He really hoped he would sleep…he couldn't afford to call in sick another day.


	6. Chapter 6

His phone rang almost as soon as he turned the light off.

It was Jack, and he sat up, fumbling for the light and his clothes. A call after midnight from his oldest away at college…couldn't be good.

"Jack, what's wrong? Do you need me to come?"

"What's wrong, Dad? What's wrong is, I was texting Sean and he said you'd taken your ring off. I would have called earlier but I had to finish a paper by midnight."

He dropped his jeans on the floor, sat back down. No emergency.

"And you're so mad at me that you're calling me at 12:15 a.m.?"

"Dad…you didn't think that maybe you should have sat down with me and Sean and discussed this? Thought everything was gonna be a family decision now—yet you didn't even consult us!"

Danny flinched. He _had_ promised Sean that… But in his defense, it had been like a year and a half, so in the moment, when he'd taken the ring off, he hadn't even remembered saying that to Sean.

He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Jack."

"Why didn't you ask us first?"

He cleared his throat. "Because…it was kind of a…an unexpected situation, and there wasn't time at the moment. Honestly, I didn't think that you or Sean would…"

"An unexpected situation? So you didn't even think about it, you just did it? What do you mean—you didn't think we'd care? You didn't think it would matter to us?"

"I didn't say that, Jack. I didn't think I would have to justify this decision; I was the one married to her for over 20 years!"

"And she was our mom!" Jack spat out. "Now you're acting like you've forgotten her, like she never existed! Do you even love Mom anymore?"

He heard a noise in the hallway. "Come on in, Sean," he called.

The door opened slowly. The 16-year-old came in, looking sheepish.

"Jack, I'm putting you on speaker so Sean can hear you." He did, then looked at his younger boy. "How long have you been eavesdropping?"

The kid shrugged. "Long enough."

Danny stared at their wedding picture. "I have not forgotten your mother, boys. I still love her. I'll love her till the day I die. But…I…I'm not married anymore. And I'm trying to move on—not to forget your mother, but to—to not stay stuck in the anger and denial. That's why I took my ring off."

Or at least that's how Doc had helped him to see it.

"Excuses," Sean muttered, and left the room.

Danny yawned. "We can talk about this more when you're home for fall break, Jack; but it's almost 1 a.m., and I have to be at work by 7 so I'm gonna have to let you go, kiddo. 'Night, love you."

Jack hung up.

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He tossed and turned the rest of the night, and dragged himself to work roughly 36 hours after taking off his ring.

Baez kept looking at him funny all day—more so when he let her drive—but thankfully she didn't say anything.

Near the end of their tour, though, she cornered him. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Already did, yesterday," he reminded her.

"Danny, you didn't sleep again last night, and you've been stuck in your head all day. What's going on?"

He sank into a chair. "Sean texted Jack, who called me after midnight. I thought something had happened to him when he called…"

"But he was calling to chew you out?" Baez guessed.

He nodded, yawned. "They both did." He glanced at his watch. "I've gotta run, have to go home and have dinner with Sean, and then I have a…an appointment," he said, and fled.

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8 p.m. found him in Doc's office. The whole "going home and having dinner with Sean" thing hadn't exactly been true; his shift had ended at 7, which didn't give him time to drive to Staten Island, have dinner, and drive back to Doc's office.

"How you holding up, Danny?" the younger man asked.

He shook his head, yawned. "I broke the promise I made to Sean," he sighed.

Doc looked confused. "Sorry, Danny, I don't remember…"

He stared at his bare hand. "I promised him that everything would be a family decision. And now I go and…I didn't consult them on this."

"Remind me of the context of that conversation," Doc asked.

He sighed. "It was when Sean asked me why Linda had to die, that Jamie and I have the dangerous jobs."

He winced, remembering. "Felt like he'd sucker-punched me. Told him I'd bring Linda back if I could."

_Didn't tell him…_

"What was that, Danny?"

He frowned, looked up at his therapist. "What was what?"

"You just self-censored. What did you think to yourself that you didn't say out loud?"

Damn the man for being able to read his body language! He should have just done this over the phone, not come to Doc's office.

He hadn't let anyone know that he had thought this ever since her death. Hell, he'd barely acknowledged it to himself, except during sleepless nights.

He stared at his feet. "That I…would take her place in a heartbeat if I could."

"Have you felt like that since…her death?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Didn't say anything because I figured you'd tell me to stop."

"You know that's not how this works, Danny. We talk through things, figure out why you're feeling like you're feeling, and then talk through what actions you should, or should not, take, based on those feelings."

He nodded. That was what he didn't like about therapy—all the talk about feelings. He just liked the after-effects of a therapy session—hell if he knew what those were, though.

"Why do you feel you should have died instead of Linda?" Doc asked evenly.

He sighed. "Sean was right: I'm the one with the dangerous job. If one of us had to die, it should have been me. It would have…the boys would have had it easier if I'd died and she'd lived. She was better with emotions, cooking, doing little things to make the boys feel loved. And, she probably would have slapped anyone who told her it was time to take her ring off."

"Slow down there, Danny. You've got a lot of layers there to unpack. Let's take them one at a time."

Doc rose from his chair, got each of them a bottle of water, and sat down again. "First: you taking Linda's place. Why do you feel like your life is less valuable than Linda's?"

Danny flinched, opened his bottle, took a few healthy swigs. "Dammit, Doc, I didn't say that! I'm not…" He wasn't suicidal, dammit!

"You implied it."

"No, I didn't! I just said she'd be a better single parent than I am."

Doc shook his head. "You don't know that, Danny. Losing you…might have destroyed her. And the boys would be in the same boat as they are now—with a single parent. But let's try to stick to facts, not hypotheses here. Tell me about the rest of your conversation with Sean, and why he and Jack are mad at you."

He sighed. "I promised Sean everything was going to be a family decision from now on—including if he and Jack wanted me to quit. Sean said they just wanted me to be safe. Now…Jack's applying that 'family decision' thing to everything."

"So, your boys think you should have consulted them before taking your ring off?"

He nodded. "I wasn't expecting…that much of a reaction. Thought they'd understand. It doesn't mean I'm trying to pretend she never existed, or…"

He shook his head. Damn, this was hard.

"I feel like I'm going in circles, Doc! Thought about putting the ring back on, but somehow, that seems…like a step backward."

"How would it be a step backward?" Doc asked.

He sighed. "You're the doc, you're the one who told me I was letting go of all this guilt, you tell me."

"Danny," Doc said evenly, "you obviously feel you've made a huge stride in the grieving process by taking your ring off. Progress that would be undone if you put your ring back on. Tell me how you see that, why you think that."

He shook his head.

"Then I'm going to give you a homework assignment for next Monday."

His shoulders slumped. "What?"

"Set aside all of this—the things I've talked with you about in the last 48 hours, the boys' reaction, and try to remember the thoughts and feelings that you were having when you went to talk to Maggie. How you were feeling when you took your ring off. Write those down for me, okay?"

He nodded—and made a mental note to miss his appointment next week so he wouldn't have to do his homework—and left.

And in the interests of avoiding another yelling match with Sean, he drove to his dad's house.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks to JLMayer and Kirby's Choice for their reviews of the last chapter, which helped shape this one!**

"_Thought everything was gonna be a family decision…do you even love Mom anymore…?"_

Jack's words were circling around in his head. He wanted to punch something. He couldn't drive to his dad's like this…

With a screech of tires, Danny made a U-turn, drove back to the parking-lot, and stormed inside the office building.

Doc's door was ajar, and Danny shoved it open. It banged into the wall.

"What business do the boys have, jumping down my throat like that? This was my decision to make, not…"

He sank into a chair, shaking with anger. The last time he'd been this angry had been just a few days ago, when Delgado was yelling at him to shoot Rojas…

Doc stood up from his desk, locked some papers in his filing cabinet. He walked over to the door and closed it, then sat down. "You're absolutely right, Danny: you and you alone can make this decision," he said calmly. "The boys had no right to attack you over that."

"How could they…" The anger was gone and he was struggling to swallow around the lump in his throat. "How could they ask if I still love Linda? Of course I do!"

"I know. The boys know that too, deep down, but they're lashing out because they're afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"I can't say for sure without talking to them, but I would guess that they're afraid of losing their only remaining parent."

Danny flinched. "This wouldn't be happening if Linda were alive. I should've died instead of Linda."

"Survivor's guilt," Doc said evenly.

Danny kicked the coffee table. "Dammit, Doc, do you have to give everything a f-g label?

Doc shrugged. "Occupational hazard."

He sighed. "If I could switch places with her…"

"What would that accomplish?"

"The boys would have their mom back."

"And they still would only have one parent—not both. You're a good father, Danny, don't let this whole situation make you think otherwise."

He stared at his feet.

"You need to talk to them, Danny. Think you're up to it tonight?"

He shrugged. Better than having to walk on eggshells around Sean for the rest of the week… "Yeah. How are we gonna do this?"

"I'll get there. One thing you need to clarify: they cannot manipulate you like this."

He frowned. "How are they manipulating me?"

"Accusing you of forgetting about Linda, of dating…that's classic manipulation, Danny. And it needs to stop. I will tell them that for you if you'd like."

He nodded, and Doc continued, "They need to understand that not everything can be, or needs to be, a family decision; you taking your ring off is not a family decision. You dating someone is not a family decision—though if you ever decide to have someone over for dinner, the boys should have met her beforehand."

He shook his head. "Doc, I'm not even…I don't know why they're so hung up on the idea of me dating."

"Again, I don't know without talking to them, but I'd guess they're afraid you would try to replace their mom."

Doc glanced at his watch. "It's only 9, call them, see if they can do a Google Hangouts call. We can do a video session with them."

He nodded, made the calls; and ten minutes later, he was staring at his boys' faces on Doc's computer screen.

"What's going on, Dad?" Jack asked.

"I was talking with Doc, and he thinks we need to have an actual conversation about me taking off my ring, not you two exploding at me."

Jack looked sheepish. "Okay…"

Sean glared. "So he can justify it as a load of b.s. you not blaming yourself for Mom's death?"

Doc cleared his throat. "Boys, do you know what manipulation is?"

Sean shook his head.

Jack shrugged. "Making someone do something they don't want to do, by, like, making them feel guilty."

"Yes, and that is what you're doing to your father with this whole attitude about him taking off his wedding ring. That is his decision, and only his decision."

"But he promised everything would be a family decision!" Sean exploded.

Doc sighed. "Do you expect your dad to consult you, and you to consult him, on what to wear for the day, what to cook for dinner, whether or not to play hooky from work or school?"

It sounded silly, but Danny could see where Doc was going with this. He relaxed a bit.

"No, of course not! That's…ridiculous! Just about the…big stuff," Sean said, and Jack nodded.

"Then what sort of things do you think it applies to?"

"Whether he quits the NYPD," Jack said. "But we already told him that we just want him to be safe."

"Taking his wedding ring off and forgetting Mom," Sean muttered.

"Taking his ring off is not a decision your dad needs to run by you," Doc said again. "Why are you so angry at him for taking off his ring?"

"I'm not angry!" Sean yelled.

"You're yelling, Sean, which tells me you're angry," Doc said. "What are you afraid of?"

There was a long silence.

"That Dad's gonna forget about Mom and start dating. And then he'll forget about us, too," Jack said quietly.

Danny glanced up at the computer screen to see Sean nodding. Both boys looked close to tears. He didn't think he'd seen them cry since the funeral. He glanced at Doc for permission to jump in, and the younger man nodded.

He cleared his throat. "Jack, Sean, I'm never going to forget you. I promise you that. And I'm never going to forget your mother, God rest her soul. I…I need you to believe me on that. Please?"

"Sure," Sean sighed, and looked away from the camera. "I didn't mean to make you feel guilty, Dad. 'M sorry."

"Me too," Jack said.

"Apology accepted," Danny whispered.

"Do you understand that your dad did not-and does not—need to consult you on everything?" Doc asked.

Both boys nodded.

Danny cleared his throat. "Maybe this weekend, unless my schedule changes, Sean and I will come up and visit you, okay, Jack?"

The kid nodded.

They ended the call.

"That went well, Danny. Back to the topic of you thinking you're not a good enough father…"

Danny shook his head, stood up. "No, Doc, it's almost 10, I've got an early shift; I've gotta…"

He bolted for the door before Doc could say anything.

He drove to the cemetery, where he parked and called Erin. He asked her to go hang with Sean because something had come up and he had to go back to work.

He sat there in front of Linda's grave for over an hour, then drove to the precinct and spent the rest of the night reviewing video surveillance for their case.


	8. Chapter 8

The hand on his shoulder jolted him awake, and he sat up, fist striking out.

His neck, shoulders and back ached.

Damn, he'd fallen asleep sitting up…shouldn't have stayed at the table reading the paper.

He blinked.

Definitely not at his kitchen table.

He was at his desk at the precinct, and Baez was looking concerned.

He scrubbed at his face. "Damn, Baez. Sorry."

"Have you been here all night?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep, figured I'd get some work done."

More like, didn't want to go home and have another argument with Sean…

She handed him a cup of coffee. "Your dad…the commissioner…is in Sarge's office. He wants to talk to you."

Great. Just peachy. His Friday was already off to a great start.

"Thanks, partner." He drained the coffee, stood up, and walked into the office.

"Dad, what are you doing here?"

"Sean called me around 1 a.m. Said you'd asked Erin to stay with him, that you had to go in to work. He was worried you were mad at him."

"I'm fine."

His dad looked skeptical. "This have anything to do with your ring?"

He shrugged.

"Go home, Danny. You can't work on no sleep. I'll clear it with your boss."

"I got a few hours. I'm fine, Dad."

"Go home, Danny. That's an order."

He huffed, and stalked out of the precinct.

By the time he got home, Sean had left for school—which suited Danny perfectly. Even though the video session with the boys and Doc had gone well, he did not want to risk another yelling match with his younger son.

He made a few phone calls, picked up a stake-out detail with Major Crimes that night, agreed to cover for a sick detective on Saturday, and picked up a tour on Sunday. He'd miss family dinner, but that would spare him Erin's and Jamie's reactions to him taking off his ring.

Last time he'd worked this much overtime was when Jack failed algebra.

That reminded him…

He texted Jack: "Sorry, work got crazy busy and we won't be able to come up this weekend."

Now all he had to do was keep himself busy—and out of Sean's way—once the kid got home from school.

He mowed the lawn, did a few other projects, then napped on the couch, careful to set an alarm so he could leave before Sean got home.

3 p.m. he left a note for Sean, told him he'd picked up a shift and to call his grandfather or his aunt to pick him up.

He ran some errands, drove to the cemetery for a bit.

6 p.m. he drove to the location of the stakeout.

7:05 his phone rang. It was his father, so he answered. "Danny. You want to tell me why Sean just called, said you weren't home when he got home from school, and you left him a note telling him to call me?"

He sighed, kept peering through the binoculars and wondering where his back-up was. "Got a call, Major Case needed some help on a stake-out."

"And my orders to go home?"

"I…took the day, Dad."

"And Sean?"

He shrugged. "I told him to call you. I thought he would have done it hours ago."

"What's going on, Danny?"

He was about to answer when he saw his suspect. "Gotta go, Dad. Suspect's on the move."

He hung up on his father.

He got exactly the evidence he needed, arrested his suspect and took him down to the precinct for questioning, did his paperwork, and was home by 4 a.m.

There was a note on the kitchen table. "Sean's with me. I hope this doesn't become a habit, Danny." It was from his father.

He crumpled it up, threw it in the trashcan, and collapsed on the couch to try to get a few hours sleep before his 8 am shift.

He got through his tour on Saturday, crashed for a couple hours in the dorms at the precinct, then spent the rest of the night at his desk catching up on paperwork and reviewing video surveillance for their case.

He slipped out of the precinct to go to 7 a.m. Mass, grabbed coffee and a sandwich on his way back, and was getting out of his car when he saw Dr. Dawson standing on the curb.

"Doc, what are you doing here?"

The younger man smiled. "Got a call from your father. Lieutenant Gormley is at your desk with orders to write you up if he sees you in the squad room today. I'm here to prevent that—but you need to tell me why you've worked 26 of the last 36 hours."

Had it really been…?

8-hour stake-out, 12-hour tour, 6 hours going over video surveillance…

Yeah, it had been.

He sighed. "You know me, Doc."

"Throwing yourself into work at the expense of everything else?"

Now that was a déjà vu moment….

"Have to do something to keep from going down the rabbit hole."

Two other detectives, going in for their shifts, gave him and Doc a weird look, and Danny sighed. "Can we go someplace more private?"

"Yes. I'll see you in my office in 20 minutes."


	9. Chapter 9

His phone buzzed with a text message before he'd gotten back in his car.

"_Stay home tomorrow. Orders from 1 PP_." It was from Gormley.

Great. Exactly what he wanted. More time to think.

He called his dad. "I'm fine, Dad. I don't need tomorrow off."

"When I hear from your sergeant that despite my orders to take some time, you worked 26 hours this weekend…yes, you do. Lieutenant Gormley will write you up if you step into the squad room before 8 a.m. Tuesday. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

He hung up on his father, texted Doc: "Actually, I'm too exhausted to drive, I'll see you at the usual time."

Doc had kept the 8 p.m. slot on Monday open for a while now.

He snuck back into the precinct and made it to the dorms without Gormley seeing him.

He toed off his shoes and fell onto the spartan bed.

[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-

"Reagan!"

He sat up, swiped at his eyes. "Baez? How'd you get in my living room?"

He could've sworn he'd just fallen asleep on the couch…

"We're not in your living room, Danny. Open your eyes. Come on."

He blinked.

Definitely not his living room.

He was in the dorms at the squad.

"Damn. Did you crack the suspect?"

"We're not on a case. It's Sunday. I came in to finish my paperwork, saw your car in the parking lot. Gormley was at your desk and told me what was going on. I covered for you so he doesn't know you're back here."

"How'd you manage that?"

"Talked his ear off about that idiot criminal from last week until he was in his car…he never noticed your car two rows over."

"Thanks, partner." He scrubbed his face. "I need coffee."

"No, you need sleep. Come on, let's grab breakfast."

He shook his head. "Already ate. I think."

"Reagan, do you know what day it is?"

He nodded. "Sunday. I went to Mass, grabbed a bite, came back here. I was too tired to drive to Doc's office, so I crashed in here. How'd you get here?"

"Never mind me, why didn't you take the weekend?"

He shrugged. "Didn't want to get in another argument with Sean—or sit around the house doing nothing."

"You ignored a direct order from the commissioner?"

He shrugged. Yeah, he had. Wasn't like he cared.

"Danny…go home, get some rest. Have dinner with your family."

"That's what I'm trying to avoid. Cold shoulder from Sean, sympathy from Erin, and self-righteous opinions from Jamie and Eddie. Best for all if I skip dinner."

"No, it's not. I know a thing or two about family, and right now is when you need them the most. Go back to sleep, I'll wake you up in time to leave for dinner."

He yawned. "What are you gonna do?"

"Catch up on my paperwork. If I'm feeling generous, I might do yours, too. Now _sleep_, Reagan."

She left, closing the door behind him, and he rolled over.

[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-

_He was standing in a snow-covered field. He could smell smoke._

_He looked around._

_An airplane was on fire._

_He ran towards it._

"_Sir, you can't go over there!"_

_Hands were pulling him away._

"_I'm a police officer, I need to help!"_

_He fought off the hands, ran toward the plane._

_A scream tore the air._

"_Danny!"_

_He ran towards the plane, desperate to get to his wife._

_They'd been wrong when they told him she was dead!_

_The scream stopped._

_Suddenly, without him moving, he was at the wreckage._

_He was staring down at Linda's body._

_It had to be hers._

_The wedding ring. He'd recognize that ring anywhere._

"_Why didn't you save me? Why'd you take off your ring?" asked her disembodied voice._

[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-

He bolted upright and ran to the bathroom to throw up.

When he was done, he sat back on his heels.

Been a long time since he had a nightmare that bad. He was soaked with sweat.

He cursed, scrubbed his face.

Baez handed him a bottle of water when he stumbled out of the bathroom.

He chugged it, grabbed his go bag. He took a shower in the precinct, and went to his dad's.

"You look like crap," Erin said.

"Thanks. Long weekend."

"It wouldn't have been long if you had obeyed orders and stayed home," his father said evenly.

"Well, I wasn't going to sit around doing nothing," he muttered.

"You could have gone to Sean's game, gone to see Jack like you promised." 

"What, Jack called you and told you I wasn't coming?"

"He was worried about you."

Danny cursed viciously.

"Keep it civil!" his grandfather admonished.

"Um, Danny, aren't you missing something?" Jamie asked, and waggled his left hand at him.

Before he could explode at his younger brother, Erin turned her puppy-dog eyes on him. "Danny, what happened? Did you lose it? I'm so sorry."

"No, I already told you: he took it off!" Sean yelled. "Gave me a whole load of b.s. about not blaming himself for Mom's death, and he even got his shrink to talk to me and Jack, but it's a load of crap!"

"That's one way to put it, but not at the dinner table," his grandfather said mildly.

His dad looked around the table. "Sean, the decision to continue to wear one's wedding ring, or to take it off, is a personal decision."

"Why do you still wear yours, Grandpa? Do you miss Grandma more than Dad misses Mom?"

"Sean, back off your father," Frank said sternly. "If you can't keep it civil, go to your room."

Before Sean could storm off, Danny shook his head. "Nope, I'm the one who should leave." He stood up, grabbed his plate, scraped it into the trash can, and left the house.

[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-[H]-

He found himself back at the cemetery.

Doc would have a field day if he told him about his nightmare. Which was why he wasn't going to mention it.

He shook his head.

One $$hole had told him, about a year after Linda's death, that he "should be over it" by now. He'd have decked the guy if they hadn't been leaving church.

What was that Doc had said the other day?

Getting _over_ meant forgetting, getting _through_ meant living?

Something like that.

He was caught somewhere between the two.

He couldn't forget—he never wanted to forget—but the remembering was making it hard to keep living.

He sat there thinking and remembering and talking, until the sun started to set.

Then he drove back to his dad's, picked up Sean, and drove home without saying a word to his younger son.


	10. Chapter 10

"Tell me why you think your life is less valuable than Linda's."

He glared at the younger man. "Not even a 'Hello, how was your mandatory time off, Detective Reagan?' Damn, Doc. You're jumping in head-first."

"If I leave it for the end of the session, you'll find an excuse to high-tail it out of here, Danny."

He stared at his bare ring finger. "I never said I thought that," he whispered.

"You implied it, though. Saying that you should have died instead of Linda, that the boys would have been better off then."

He shrugged. "Been almost two years, Doc. Feel like we should've had this conversation back then. No point in having it now."

"You didn't bring it up then, Danny, which is why we didn't talk about it then. Now that you have said the words…gotten it out of the open instead of letting it keep you awake at night…now there is a point to having that conversation. I'd like to hear why you think that."

He sighed. "Who said it's been keeping me up at night?"

"You, every week, when you shrug off my question about how you're sleeping. The dark circles under your eyes and the coffee you drink in my office at 8 p.m., also give it away."

He set the thermos down. Truth was, he'd poured it hours ago, drunk half of it, watered it down throughout the day. By now it was cold and too weak to do anything other than wet his mouth.

His hand went to twirl his ring around.

It wasn't there, and he picked the mug back up, hoping Doc hadn't noticed the gesture.

He'd had too much time to think today; that was the only reason he was pushing back at every one of Doc's questions.

He shrugged. "I can't do this today."

"Yes, you can. Don't make me reach out to the department psychologist and make these sessions mandatory, Danny."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because you're not telling me that I'm wrong. You're not telling me that you don't think you should have died instead of Linda. And that concerns me."

"I'm not suicidal, Doc! I'm trying to be more careful, to not rush headlong into danger!"

"Because your boys already…"

That was hitting way too close to what Erin had said after he shot the kid at the gas station…

He held his hand up to keep the younger man from finishing that sentence, shook his head. "I _promised_ the boys I wasn't going anywhere."

Not that he had any guarantee of being able to keep that promise. Any day on the job could be his last.

"Then tell me why you still think you should have died instead of Linda."

It felt like it had been years since he arrested Rojas. Not one lousy week.

"The cartel…could have just come after me. Killed me. Left my family out of it. Instead they wanted to hurt me…torching my house, ordering the hit on…Linda."

"And if they had come after you…you're okay with them leaving Linda without a husband, your boys without a father?"

"That's part of the job, Doc!" he yelled. "Linda knew that when she married me! She knew there was a chance I wouldn't come home one day!"

He took a few shaky, angry breaths. He took a swig of cold coffee. "They shouldn't have taken their revenge out on my wife," he whispered.

"No, they should not have. But that's the M.O. behind these drug cartels—revenge."

He nodded, scrubbed at his eyes.

"You want to be there for your boys, Danny? You can't do that if you're walking around thinking you should be dead."

He bolted to his feet, took a turn around the room. "Don't tell me how to parent Jack and Sean!"

"That's not what I was trying to do, Danny. Come take a seat, please."

He made a few more circles around the room, then sat back down. "What now?"

"What would Linda say if she knew that you felt you should have died instead of her?"

He sighed. "She'd tell me to get my head out of my you-know-what, stop grieving, and start living."

"And how can you do any of that if you still think you should have died instead of her?"

He kicked the leg of the chair. "Dammit, Doc, I don't know! Aren't you supposed to be asking me what I was thinking when I drove to Maggie's apartment last week, what I was feeling?"

"In due time, Danny. For now, tell me one concrete thing you're going to do this week to 'start living,' and then I'll let you go early."

He must look like crap if Doc were willing to cut him loose before the hour was up.

He shrugged. "Go visit Jack this weekend, like I told him I would last weekend?"

He stood up, ready to bolt.

"That sounds like a good plan. I'd like to see you Thursday, Danny."

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "Twice in one week? Really, Doc?"

"We still have a lot to talk about. But you've done a lot of hard work tonight."

He shrugged. "Okay, Thursday at 8, I'll be here."

He drove to the cemetery.

He didn't feel like he'd done a lot of hard work; he felt like he'd just gone in circles until he was dizzy.

He sat there in front of Linda's grave until his phone buzzed at 9:45: "_R u OK, Dad? Thought you'd be home by now."_

He sighed. Couldn't worry Sean. "_On my way,"_ he wrote back, and headed home.


End file.
